Score: 5/5
Like a portal to a different world, Bar Les Incompétents feels like a restaurant that shouldn’t exist within the confines of a small city — something far grander than what most expect from St. Catharines. Walking in on a snowy, unseasonably cold Sunday night, I instantly forgot about the storm outside. Instead, I was greeted by the chic, warm elegance of a Parisian dining room.
That seems to be the intention. Les Incompétents describes itself as a “French(ish) restaurant and cocktail bar,” the latest brainchild from the team behind the wildly successful and Michelin-recognized restaurant, Fat Rabbit, just down the street.
What immediately stood out to me was the striking attention to detail. From the custom plates to the playful Home Alone themed touches woven throughout the space — the restaurant is littered with little nods that make the restaurant feel thoughtful, curated and unexpectedly charming.
Like Fat Rabbit, the menu only tells half the story. It’s a tapas-style lineup built around playful, shareable plates — heavy on seafood-driven flavours with French-inspired twists. The offerings are divided into three sections: “Non Cuit” (non-cooked-ish), “Grignoter” (to nibble), and “Pour Le Festin” (for the feast), plus a revolving slate of daily features. Speaking with Chef de cuisine Julio Guerra, he explained that the featured dishes change with market availability and that the menu will continue to evolve as the restaurant does.
Sitting at the kitchen bar was a pleasure in itself. Not only were the stools unexpectedly comfortable — a rarity — but the vantage point gave us a clear view of the live raw bar and that day’s rotating features. My visit featured a spread of East Coast oysters, mussels, and lobster, along with Carabinero shrimp from Spain, all backed by an extensive wine list and an inventive cocktail menu.
For a new restaurant, Incompétents already shows the makings of a Niagara mainstay. Wood paneling along the walls creates a tavern-like coziness, but the menu pushes far beyond that — French classics with nouveau twists and bold, sometimes experimental flavours.
I’ve never been someone who gravitates toward seafood, but here it’s a specialty. That night, they offered four varieties of oysters, each with their own unique house-made sauce. Taking a leap, I ordered one of each. Two things became immediately clear: I do, in fact, enjoy oysters — and I needed to stop myself from ordering more.
The scallops arrived next: a rich, umami-forward dish with Japanese inspiration. Two raw scallops sat on a fried nugget of scallop bacon, each adorned with kewpie mayo and a tare-style sauce.
Then came two enormous Carabinero shrimp, which were so large that I mistook them for small lobsters. They were grilled to perfection, served brochette-style in clarified butter with crostini, lemon and topped with crispy pork, parsley and garlic. Though not the tidiest dish, the attentive service team made any cleanup effortless and prepared us smoothly for what followed.
The œuf mayo from the “Grignoter” section ended up being one of the most surprising plates of the night. This eggs-Benedict-inspired dish completely changed how I view the classic breakfast staple. Two jammy, soft-boiled eggs arrived blanketed in airy celeriac rémoulade, sitting atop more celeriac and finished with chervil. It was presented as simple; its execution was anything but.
Ordering From “Le Festin”, the short rib brochettes were the standout dish of the night. Fall-apart tender cubes of short rib sat in a black-garlic jus and were topped with crispy shallots. Just when I thought I knew what to expect, Les Incompétents proved otherwise. Short ribs rarely disappoint, but I’ve never had to actively remind myself not to lick the plate.
Our journey through “Le Festin” continued with Secreto frites, which leaned again into Japanese influence. Koji-marinated pork came dressed like a steak with overflowing house-made shoestring fries and café de Paris butter: rich, savoury and indulgent.
When the dish arrived, we were greeted by Chef Julio, whose vision clearly drives the creativity of the menu. He came carrying one more plate, offered on the house: poulet crêpes, his take on chicken and waffles. Crispy, tender chicken was paired with mini crêpes and sauce Suzette. As he explained, the goal was to merge three dishes into one: a French classic, a Southern staple and a playful nod to orange chicken. Bursting with bright citrus, it was a dish that we instantly regretted almost skipping.
Despite being full, dessert was non-negotiable. Two options were featured that night: the nonchalant chocolate mousse and French toast. The mousse was rich yet exceptionally light, topped with flaky salt, olive oil and French-toast-cereal for texture. The French toast — possibly the most unforgettable dish of the evening — featured house-made brioche fried to a crisp, topped with pistachio cream and an orange-and-elderflower crème anglaise. It tasted like part doughnut, part custard, part breakfast and entirely luxurious.
Bar Les Incompétents offers an experience unlike anything else in Niagara: a daring, inventive menu led by a confident chef and service that feels polished despite the restaurant having only been open for three weeks. Yes, the price point is high, but the quality, creativity and atmosphere fully justify it.
For Brock students or anyone eager to try something new, I can wholeheartedly recommend booking a table sooner rather than later. Much like its sister restaurant, it feels destined to become one of the region’s — and perhaps even one of Canada’s — best dining experiences.
Having barely scratched the surface of the menu — and knowing it changes often — I’m already looking forward to returning to Bar Les Incompétents whenever the opportunity comes.